


The Potter House

by reginasyreni



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:42:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginasyreni/pseuds/reginasyreni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Daily Prophet – Author Head Auror Bernard Chareth and Co-Written by Harry Potter: Dear children of 11-18. We welcome you to become a student of The Potter House: A New Academy of Magic funded by Head Auror Chareth and run by Harry Potter. Learn from the greatest wizards and witches of our time. (After War, Eventual Draco and Harry Pairing, Second Person, Multi-Chapter, More Characters Than Listed, More Pairings Than Listed, Many Original Characters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1 & 2 of Prologue

Author's Note: Hello, welcome to a new world of post-war Harry Potter. I usually will not be posting an AN, as to get to the story. This will be a long fanfiction, in which I will be posting haphazardly. I hope you bear with me and review. I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes or issues with the second person. It used to be in third, so excuse that! I will not be making that mistake anymore as I will be sticking with second person. Everyone who is dead is dead, by the way. Draco and Harry are promised to be together eventually and I will try to post as much as I can! I hope you can follow this and aren't confused, this is just part one of the prologue and then we will get into the true chapters. Enjoy and make sure to review and ask any questions you have. Happy reading! 

 

The Potter House 

Part One 

6 Months After The War 

 

“I never thought you'd be the one trying to talk sense into me, Mr. Potter,” Minerva McGonagall says while she cleans her glasses. 

“Nor did I, Professor,” Harry Potter replies respectfully. “But I wouldn't be here if what Hermione told me didn't concern me.” 

“Ms. Granger couldn't ask me herself? Unlike her, she's always been eager to question,” McGonagall says fondly, placing her glasses back on. 

“Hermione thought it'd be best for me to speak with you, Professor,” Harry says. 

“Leave it to Ms. Granger to find time servicing over 33 patients and have time to eavesdrop,” McGonagall sighs. “What exactly do you think we need to speak about, Mr Potter?” She clearly wasn't impressed with him waltzing in. 

“I understand how this seems disrespectful, Professor,” Harry says quickly and leans forward. 

“You may have been preparing for a war most your school time, Mr. Potter but I am sure you even caught that grammatical error in that sentence. It doesn't seem disrespectful, it is!” McGonagall huffs. 

“Bernard Chareth. Whose that, Professor?” Harry asks. 

Minerva looks at Harry over perched glasses on her nose with a glare. Harry refuses to feel intimidated. The Professor and her old student sits in McGonagall's safe house, a nook in Scotland not far from Hogwarts grounds – many of the survivors from the war and those injured by Voldemort's wrath lived there. They sit by the fire, the house felt overheated to Harry and even more so as they sipped on their tea that has a warming charm on it. 

“The New Head Auror, Mr. Potter. Surely you know this.”

“I do,” Harry says. “But who is he to you? Why in the world was he spewing talk of Voldemort round here?”

McGonagall stiffens. “Harry, there is a lot of things you do not know and may not like to hear.”

“You're not one to drag on, Professor.” Harry pauses. “What has been being whispered? It's been six months and I didn't reckon I'd hear his name spoke of in terror again. Voldemort is dead, Professor!” Harry pleads. 

“I tried to ignore it for as long as I could Mr. Potter but when Bernard came to me I had no choice but to believe it. The Auror Office suspects the grounds of Hogwarts to be cursed with the soul of Voldemort's magic. This world has been lifted of a great black cloud but splotches do remain. We still must clean up the mess of Voldemort's wrath before continuing on,” Minerva says sharply. 

Harry leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “You cannot rebuild elsewhere?”

“Hermione Granger is your best friend, surely you know how long Hogwarts has stood on these grounds,” she scoffs. 

“Why are we all still so scared, Professor?” Harry asks, not meeting her eyes. 

“Being scared isn't out of cowardice, Mr. Potter but out of caution,” McGonagall warns quietly and takes a sip of her tea. “Needs more milk,” she decides, pouring a bit in her cup from the creamer on the table between the pair. 

“Professor?”

“Yes Mr. Potter?”

“Will we always need to be cautious?” Harry asks. 

“It's certainly not a bad idea,” McGonagall smiles. 

He takes a sip of his tea, black with 2 sugars. He frowns. 

“Children simply will have to attend another school till we are sure Voldemort's magic has vanished from the grounds and we are all safe. Mr Potter I want to resume a normal life and issues will not go unnoticed. I will deal with them and we will be safe,” Minerva finalizes. “I fear you're going to act irrationally.”

Harry snorts. “Lucky for you, I took that out on Ron and 'Mione. How is the Recovery going, anyways?”

“Good. Children, parents and creatures are being taken care of not only physically but emotionally as well. Many volunteer’s have taken time to try to help the emotionally wounded, such as Ms. Granger – not only has she healed and taken on patients but she's been available at all hours of the night for them at St. Mango's,” McGonagall looks down and smiles. “I am proud of you all, you do know; even after such a tragedy you're all so willing to pick up a mess you didn't make.” 

“Oh, Professor,” Harry says. “We're trying so hard to make things normal again, too. I trust you and whenever you want to open up Hogwarts again, I will support it. But I do think sometime in the next few months could be do-able. I could find you cleansers, aura readers, guards, any source of protection really,” he promises. 

“Thank you but I do have my own sources, Potter. I am not prolonging the inevitable, I am just being safe with the help of Mr. Chareth. I think you should meet him properly. The Daily Prophet can't quite capture him as he should be,” Minerva nods to herself, and then looks up at Harry. “He can explain this better than I. He's a fine Auror.”

Harry squints at her, nods and then downs the rest of his tea. “I will set up an appointment this Monday, Professor. I look forward to speaking with a man you rank so highly. . .”

“Please, I just give credit where it's due. When you go into Auror training, Mr. Potter I'd have him as your mentor.” 

“I must be going, Professor,” Harry says quickly. “I am glad there is housing for all the wounded, physical or otherwise. I've heard this has picked up round England?”

“Yes, it has. They are calling them: Ambrose Houses. The second name of Merlin, of course. It's flattering,” she says sincerely. 

“Sounds it. I will speak with you later, Professor. Have a good evening,” Harry says, on his way to walk out of the den. 

“You too, Harry. Make sure to contact Chareth!”

Too bad, he decides not to. 

 

Hermione and Ron sit across Harry the next day in their flat enjoying tea and tea cakes, both pumpkin flavored. 

“Did your mum make this or something?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah, she used to,” Ron smiles. “It's not nearly as good as hers but 'Mione helped. Womans touch and all.”

“Before it was mostly just a squashed pumpkin in a tea cup so I reckoned I should take over,” Hermione laughs and squeezes Ron's knee. “So, Harry how did it go with McGonagall?” 

“Yeah, mate we'd have gone with you but you know. . . You didn't tell us you were going to see her,” Ron says pointedly. 

“I am sorry guys,” Harry shrinks down in his seat across from them. 

“Harry, I told that in confidence. I was going to do something about it myself, you know,” Hermione says with offense. 

“I know, 'Mione but I just thought I should speak with her. You know, I won't tell you what was said unless you stop huffing,” Harry says. 

“I do not huff,” she defends. 

“You huff, love,” Ron says. “Now, what was said? I haven't spoken to her since she gave 'Mione her mediwitch job.”

“Well, she told me that the new Head Auror Bernard Chareth has given her some. . . Upsetting information,” he says. 

“What? Are we meant to guess?” Ron laughs. 

“Voldemort's magic is haunting Hogwarts,” Harry says sharply. 

“Now I feel like a dick,” Ron falls back against the love seat as his girlfriend gasps sitting up straight. 

“She fears something could manifest, I am guessing. I don't know. Guys, she was acting so off,” Harry says. 

“Did Bernard Chareth say this?” Hermione asks. 

“Yes.”

“We have to speak to him. We need to know who this guy is. We cannot deal with more of Voldemort, it's been 7 years of it. We're done, we're finished – we cannot have more uncertainty,” Hermione stands and walks towards her fireplace. 

“Where are you going, 'Mione?” Ron asks and stands up. 

“Going to the Ministry, of course!” 

Harry stands up as well. 

“'Mione, you can't. I need to handle this – ”

“For Merlin's sake, you've handled enough!” Hermione argues and pushes off Ron's hand from her shoulder. She throws the floo powder into the fire place, flecks of green explode and she yells her destination. 

“What did that mean?” Harry asks once she has vanishes. 

Ron shrugs and avoids eye contact. Changing the subject, he says “dunno, mate. Maybe we should Apparate there, c'mon.” 

Harry holds onto outstretched Ron's arm as they felt the familiar tug at their stomachs and disoriented feeling bringing them to the Ministry. The pair lands on the their feet and separated as they head directly for the Auror office. 

“We haven't met Chareth have we?”

“No,” Harry replies, pushing past a group of men to get to the lifts. 

“Gods, I miss enemies we knew you know?” Ron says. 

Harry smiles at Ron as they get onto the lift which zipped them up, down, forward and back till they reach the department. “Finally.”

“Alright, what's the plan?” he asks. 

“No plan. We convince this guy that the damn aura or whatever of Voldemort isn't haunting anything and that Hogwarts can be rebuilt,” Harry says, pushing past Ministry workers to the head office. 

“Right, okay. . . What's the rush anyways? Children have already signed up for others school round the U.K and those who went to Hogwarts have transferred as well,” Ron reasons. 

“Ron! It's Hogwarts.”

“Our home isn't the building Harry. Our home was the memories, mate and the people. The victory,” Ron says. 

“How could you even say that?” Harry asks, stopping outside the office. 

“Out of my way!” Hermione Granger hisses and pushes Harry and her boyfriend aside. 

“Love, we're coming in too,” Ron says, but he's not looking at his girlfriend when he says this. He's still holds a glare for Harry before Hermione forces Ron's eyes on her. 

They are staring at each other with a certain intensity Harry didn’t get. 

“Maybe we'll try actually going in?” Harry drawls, gesturing towards the door. 

“Right,” Hermione turns around to knock on the door but was met with a man instead. Her fist was poised in the air to knock for a few tense seconds before she released it and the man spoke. 

“Bernard Chareth, Head Auror. Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger – how nice of you to stop by without an appointment.”

The New Head Auror stood tall and handsome with curly blond hair and a young face. He spoke fast, confident with traces of humor in his voice. His robes were dark purple like wine, eyes brown and kind, and he held a notepaper and quill clutched to his broad chest. 

Hermione looked like a child caught breaking something expensive, practically nose to neck with the man. Ron pulled her close to him and Harry took a step forward. “Hello, Sir.”

“Call me Bernard, Harry. We're equals,” he says smoothly. 

“Uh sure S—Bernard. I've come to you--”

“We've come,” Ron says. 

“Yes, we've come to speak with you about the protection of Hogwarts and how you've been involved in the Headmistress' choice,” Harry says. 

Bernard smiles handsomely, “Sure! Come on in, Potter Gang. I've got sweets, tea, tea cakes, soda pops, coffee, and--”

“We're good, Sir!” Hermione snaps as they enter his office decorated in dark and light gold accented with blue. 

“Oh, Hermione call me Bernard,” he says. 

“We're good, Bernard,” Hermione corrects herself. 

Ron pulls one of the throne-like chairs for his girlfriend and sits beside her. Harry stands, wanting to gain the upper hand as Auror Chareth sits down. 

“Well, because I like you all so much I'll let you in on a little secret,” he leans forward towards the Trio. “I also have some fine wines I keep stashed away, so if you feel like going a bit mad just tell me,” he winks. 

Hermione and Ron sit motionless and Harry twitches while he stands. “Sure,” he replies carelessly. 

Bernard doesn't falter.

“Grand, grand. So, Harry you wanted to talk?” 

“Yes – ”

“We all did,” Hermione says. 

“I did. I was wondering how you feel comfortable saying you have the knowledge and fact that Voldemort is haunting Hogwarts,” Harry says disbelievingly. 

Auror Chareth sobers quickly. “Oh. I might as well get this over with. Harry, I didn't become Head Auror for my charm, you know. I became Head because of this case.”

“What case?” Hermione asks. 

“Voldemort's death. Once you destroyed him Harry, tiny pieces of him flew about like toxic and infected everything. Voldemort was such a black magic in himself he could be a slang word for The Dark Arts! His power alone, even in wake of his death still can affect everything around it – including the site of Hogwarts and it has. It's haunted it,” Chareth explains. 

“Why not move Hogwarts?” Ron asks. 

“Oh, Ronald. This magic has plans, this energy will follow Hogwarts. It's last remaining wish, Voldemort's magic was to destroy everything in that school. His dark magic reeks of it. There's this inadvertent curse called Sepulchrum Maledicite meaning the Tomb Curse. It entombs a body of magic within a last thought. It was made up by this narcissistic old wizard named Taront Blanc (famous in his time for Dark Arts) whom was on his death bed. He made the spell because he wanted his wife who left him for another man to be forever cursed with bad luck wherever she went. Once he passed, he used the spell Dimitte meaning Release and then Sepulchrum Maledicite and then said her name. 

This is what cast the spell. With his magic released successfully and the spell in full blast – his dark magic followed her till death. This curse is obscure so I can understand why you haven't heard of it but Professor Minerva McGonagall had. She came to me, thinking she'd gone mad. She visited Hogwarts, preparing to rebuild it but was met with whispers, shadows and a sick feeling. Minerva was frightened and you should be too Harry. This is a never ending curse,” Bernard's words hit Harry like an Unforgivable. 

This felt like too much. No, it was too much. He knew of this feeling, that overwhelming weight on his shoulders, the complete defeat staring him in his face, that terrible apoplectic ache. Except, Harry hadn't felt that in nearly five months because Voldemort his worst enemy, the bane of his existence had vanquished because Harry Potter killed him. Great Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived! So, no he'd never hear that high voice, see that ugly face but his shadow would forever cast Harry's home. For a single moment his entire world crashed, his new shiny beautiful world crashed inside his ribs and he couldn't breath till it was back: that fight. 

The absolute reason he'd gotten this far, the ignition of something bigger than himself resurfaced for the sake of the Wizardry World. The feeling of safety he'd never feel but craved made itself known inside his skull till he had to say the words, “then we'll find a way to end it!” 

He looked to his best friends, the ones who'd been there all along and had looks of horror etched on their faces of this new challenge. Hermione's eyes were glassy, gripping Ron's hand who simply looked angry. He saw the two squeeze hands for a moment before letting go and nodding intensely at Harry. 

“Yes, of course. We end it, yes,” they murmur and Harry understood once again why they fight beside him. 

“My life – our life, Bernard has been centered around the killing of Voldemort and if we have to clean up his mess as well so be it. It's what we do and I am frankly offended you didn't come to us,” Harry says. 

Auror Chareth looks baffled and proud as he stands up and grabs Harry's hand.

“I am sorry, Harry I should have known you'd want to hear of this first. It's your battle. If you want to rid of Voldemort completely, I am on your side but you'll need a force, you see. You can trust my team of men, since the war we've had to hire a lot of new folk and I think you you'll find them useful. Hermione, we have a library if you're interested. Come round anytime and Ron – you too. We play mighty games of chess round these offices!” Bernard says, flashing a winning smile as he lets go of Potter's hand. 

“Thank you, I will consult them.”

“Library!? Where?”

“Chess? I have been looking for new partners,” Ron says excitedly. 

Chareth smirks, “You'll have to excuse me I do have a meeting but anytime you need me just pop in or send me an Owl.”

“Will do,” Hermione chirps. “Now, Bernard show me that library. I've been looking for this volume on The Ancient Ways of Grease Birds by Vanderson Sham-Rock for ages!” 

“I do reckon we have that and Sham-Rock's entire collection on the Ancient Ways of Bees if you're interested,” he replies, escorting them outside his office.

“My Merlin, you have no idea how interested I am.”

Ron and Harry follow behind them rolling their eyes. “That's sounds about as interesting as the last book, darling.”

“The Insight of a Horses Eye? Ron we loved that book!”

“You loved it by yourself, you did. I was just forced to listen to you love it,” Ron grumbles and Harry laughs saying goodbye to Bernard privately after the couple did. 

“Goodbye, Harry. It was so nice meeting you,” Chareth says, pulling Harry in for a hug that Potter hesitantly accepts. 

“Um, yes sure you too.”

Chareth lets go and pats him on the back, “We'll keep in touch. Tell Minerva I said hello!”

 

Part Two

“Bernard says hello,” Harry says to McGonagall one late evening as they sit in the living area of now what is officially called the House of Ambrose. Minerva was currently running it with some of her old colleagues, students and class mates. 

“Oh, you met him?” She asks. 

“Yes, he was – ”

“Odd, I know but he's smart,” she adds. 

“He is. I had no idea what was going on, Professor,” Harry says. 

“I didn't want to be the one to tell you.”

“Why?”

“You needed to meet him,” McGonagall replies. 

They once again sit in the den, where most of the lodgers has their tea. The fire was a blazing red, warming Harry to the bone and this time he welcomed it. He'd been feeling so cold as of late, with all this negativity coursing through him. He needed a plan and a way to soothe some of the worry Ron and Hermione couldn't take anymore, so he went to his old Professor. “I don't know what to do.”

“What have you been doing?” She wonders. 

“”Mione and Ron have been researching in that Auror Library and so far haven't found much on the Curse but from what Bernard told us but he said he's checking with some Spell Archives in Paris. It might be helpful,” he nods. 

“The Parisian Hall, you mean?” McGonagall asks. 

“Yes, actually. You've heard of it, Professor? I hadn't. Hermione just said it was a school,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his tea. 

“It is, one of the most prestigious and studious schools. Strange it keeps coming up,” she says. 

“Keeps coming up?” Harry asks. 

“Oh, nothing. Just a few new Professors have been hired there that I used to know,” Minerva says, taking a long sip of her tea with her eyes cast down. 

“How are your patients?” Harry asks McGonagall whom now worked at St. Mango's as a healer, part time till she took back the job as a Headmistress. 

“Good, of course. Ms. Granger is a stunning mediwitch,” Minerva praises. 

“Ron was happy you got her the job,” Harry says. 

“Were you not, Mr. Potter?” 

“Of course I was happy my best friend got a job perfectly suited for you. She's perfectly suited for everything,” Harry sips his tea, shoulders squared. 

Minerva laughs slightly. “Oh, you miss feeling useful do you? You can always come work with Ms. Granger and I. . . Or go into Auror Training.”

“I understand what you are getting at but I cannot – ” Harry pauses trying to find the right words. 

“Cannot keep fighting,” she supplies. “It's what you do, Mr. Potter. Take all the time you desire but eventually the battle will continue,” McGonagall says, finishes off her tea and levitates it back to the table. “It always does, even when you stand still the battle roars on.”

“I should leave,” he decides standing up, setting down his tea and touching his Professors shoulder with care. “But, I will ask you take your own advice.”

Potter walks up stairs from the den without glancing at Minerva's face, walking pasts the Witches and Wizards who lived there and steps out feeling anxious. It felt like his emotions were gnawing between the layers of skin in his chest like some kind of snake waiting to shed. Harry's skin needed to be shed. He shook his head and laughs to himself, (pulling the green cloak hood he was wearing over his eyes as to not avert any attention to himself) and realized his metaphor sounded ridiculous. 

Harry lives on the brim of Scotland, a beautiful ivory and turquoise cottage Fleur let him use. It was one of her brother's getaway homes from France that they rarely visited so he was keeping the house company. Harry Apparates and set foot on his door step, he walks inside and hangs up his cloak. He wondered if he was out of line with his old Professor today. Although, he did feel it needed to be said with her so obviously being hypocritical. How was he meant to take on a new fight if she couldn't even face her own school? He shakes his head and walks into the living room to see the back of a blond head of hair. Lists upon lists of defensive spells were on the tip of his tongue. 

Harry yanks out his wand from its holster, in between his trouser and hip. “Stand up, turn round and put your hands over your head. Now.”

“Merlin, even without the training you're a better Auror than the ones I've got,” Bernard Chareth says, obeying Potter's exact orders as he turns round. 

“My Godric, Chareth!” Harry shouts, putting away his wand hastily. “Take your hands off your head! Please! I didn't realize it was you, Sir. I am so sorry.”

“Harry,” Bernard says slowly, taking his hands off his head with smile. “It's Bernard.”

“Bernard, right. I'm sorry,” he pauses. “How did you know where I live?” Harry asks and walks over to the Head Auror. 

He gives a lazy smile and shrugs. Harry was a mix of defensive and awkwardness right now and he hated how calm this man seems to be. All. The. Time. 

“Harry, I have absolute access to any and every person in the Wizarding World. I only use it for good though – I promise.” Bernard winks and escorts himself to Harry's kitchen and makes himself a cup of tea with his wand. “Let's sit, Harry,” Chareth decides and sits down at the island in the middle of the room. 

Harry follows him warily and sits opposite of him. “If you use it for good, then surely the reason you're in my house right now is for purpose? Not just a spot of tea?” He tries making his voice sound as friendly as possible, but there's an undercut of annoyance that won't subside. He's not even an Auror, so why does it world seem to revolve around it? 

“Oh, of course not Harry. I am here to talk to you,” Bernard says once again losing all humor in his voice that usually dances around wherever he goes. Instead he sobers and straightens his back, forcing the anxiety back into Harry's throat. The last time that Chareth decided to get oddly serious he'd learned of the terrible haunting of Voldemort. 

“Please say you've got good news, Bernard.”

Please. 

“Harry, I've got news at least. I am sorry if you don't find it good,” he swallows. “We've researched everywhere and since we've met last as you know Hermione and I have been Apparating back and forth trying to get information out of anyone. It was no luck.”

“Merlin.” Harry says. 

“Remain calm,” Bernard soothes, taking a gulp of his tea. “We may open up the school if we have enough surveillance and proper builders. I've hired a trained specialist in Magical Construction – Theodore Nott. You went to school with him, yes?”

Harry's eyes were darting back and forth, never setting in one place. His hands were tapping against every surface and he couldn't seem to take a proper sip of tea without putting it down and muttering to the Gods. 

“Um, yes,” he says, distractedly. 

“Then you two will be fine working together? I'd like you to be apart of this, Harry,” Chareth says, reaching over to touch the other man's shoulder and squeezes. 

“He was a Slytherin,” Harry notes and shrugs. “Is he any good? Can he rebuild the school?”

“He will try, he's a magic man (he laughs at his pun) with spells and ward work.”

“As long as we try, I have nothing to complain about,” Harry says, looking up at Chareth and nodding. “I am okay. Thank you, Bernard – I just want to thank you.”

“No reason to thank me, Harry,” Bernard smiles and takes his hand off Potter's shoulder with a final squeeze and downs the rest of his tea. 

“Hermione and you will keep at the research, right?”

“Of course and poor Ron as been underground asking questions,” he laughs and so does Harry. “What have you been up to?”

“I've mostly spoke to everyone who has been to the grounds of Hogwarts after the we killed Voldemort. They all felt the presence,” Harry shudders. 

“Haven't you?”

“Haven't been too close to it. Just watched from afar. I feel him everywhere, anyway.”

“It's really important to you that it's rebuilt isn't it?” Chareth asks. 

“Yes. I cannot go back till it's the place I grew up,” Harry says. 

“Done.” 

 

Theodore Knot, Harry found 1 week later, was a man of great perfection. His movements were so plotted and pretty, Potter could watch (from afar, of course) as the structure of the school he loved was being built. Harry adored being round for the historical moments Hogwarts: Witchcraft and Wizardry was made home again. Even if it was from a distance. He used a certain spell Hermione used to use (when she had to miss most of 7th year when they were looking for the Horcrux's), called Memoro meaning in basic English record – the spell could record anything you could not witness in person. 

He nearly died with happiness when it was finished after 5 months of building. He was now going to celebrate with his second family, the ones he hadn't been able to see as often as he liked. Harry hugs Theo whom he'd grown close with as of late and thanks him once more, telling him he had the honor of owling Bernard Chareth the news. Harry does so once Knott leaves his cottage, happily. 

Harry Apparates later to the Burrow and was welcomed by Ginny Weasley.

“Harry, Harry, Harry!”

“Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. Glad we got our names down,” he laughs. 

“Oh, you must be so happy,” Ginny says, pulling away and holding him by his shoulders, shaking him occasionally out of glee. 

Harry laughs loudly. “I am so happy, Ginny. I've never felt more accomplished. . . Well 'sides from killing the Dark Lord. Are 'Mione and Ron here?”

“Yes, they are. So we do have time to catch up before you go inside,” she raises a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “How have you been, Harry?'

The two decided not to date after the War ended. Harry in depression from years of the tiresome fight and Ginny dealing with her own grief from her brother's death; they decided they must deal with it themselves and if love led them back to each other they'd accept it. 

“I'm alright,” he answers truthfully. “It'll be a year in a month weeks since Voldemort's death – I don't feel like we've moved on yet, the wake of his death still present. But in the new year we can start. . . Well new and with the opening of Hogwarts coming up, I'm just feeling alright.”

“I am feeling alright too,” Ginny agrees. “It's over, Harry. The War, the fight, the pain; it's finished.” She hugs him for minutes before pulling back and kissing his cheek. 

“Let's go inside, get some of Mum's cooking in you and some butter beer!” Ginny cheers, lacing their fingers together and walking inside towards the family of Weasley's who enveloped their boy Harry in a group hug. 

George holds on longest, he had grown attached to Harry after the War. “Hello, mate.”

Harry hadn't minded, he felt so loved and that was strange because their was no impending death on their way or a War and he felt like he could soak up this feeling. “Hello, George,” he whispers. “How are you?”

“Just fine,” he answers and as Harry unlaced his hand from Ginny's, George grabbed his and gives him a squeeze.

Mrs. Weasley kissed his cheek and shoved tea in his other hand, Hermione was already reading a book with Ron in the corner once they hugged, Arthur was simply playing with his muggle watch talking of how Harry was just on time! Fleur and Bill were waving at Harry from the already set up table and Charlie was lugging off his dragon-hyde boots throwing Harry a wink. 

“I've missed you all,” Harry grins and Molly giggles. 

“You missed this delicious food! Come, sit dear. I've just prepared a feast! The occasion is of course the opening of Hogwarts,” she cheers. “You lot have done me so proud. Haven't they, Arthur? Oh, for Heavens sake,” Molly growls, grabbing her husbands new watch. “Love, I bought this so you could see time, not be distracted with it.”

“It ticks!” 

“It does.”

“Harry, we are quite proud! I've never seen such perseverance of a Head Auror, my. I didn't know this Bernard Chareth would be so refreshing, he's really getting things done,” Arthur nods, sitting down next to his wife who had just slipped her husbands watch into Bills hands who chuckles and put it in his pocket. 

“Truly is! He's wonderful to work with,” Percy Weasley chirps as he walks down the spiral stairs and pats Harry on the back who was still leaning against the chairs with George. 

“Oh, right. Ron told me you were his consulting partner. I am so happy for you, Percy but I didn't know you were interested in Auror work?” Harry prompts. 

“I am really not,” he laughs. “But Chareth said he'd heard of my work and wanted me as a consultant because of my background with the Ministry. He's very. . . Pliant.”

“Honestly, the man's strange!” Fleur said, accent as fresh as it was when she came. “Anytime you seem him, he's too kind and what is the word, mon cher?” She asks uselessly to her husband who hadn't time to answer as she continues to talk. “Pliant.”

“Just said that,” says Percy. 

“He's just nice, why shouldn't we like that he's nice?” Hermione asks. “We've dealt with far too many bitter men.”

“'Mione's right and plus – he's a killer chess player. I still beat him but he's good,” Ron pipes up. 

Molly shrugs. “He's good enough for me. Percy's got a job, Arthur got a job, Fleur even is interviewing soon!”

“Is she?” Harry asks. 

“Quite, Harry. I am trying out for call girl,” she answers. 

Ron burst out laughing. “What?”

Bill laughs and kisses her cheek. “You mean receptionist, darling?”

“Oh, right yes!” She laughs. 

Harry smiles and turns to George. “How's the shop, mate?”

“Great, innit Ron?” George asks his brother who pushing away a book Hermione was shoving at him. 

“'Mione I detest poetry, no – Oh! Yes, it's going great. You've got no idea Harry how many bloody 2nd years come in a day. Who knew there were better things to spend your cash on than Chocolate Frogs at that age?”

“If you ever need help,” Harry offers. 

“We know,” George says. 

“Yeah, mate you'll have some down time, now right?” Ron asks. 

“Yes. Theo and I finished this afternoon, now we just have to get some protection spells on it – the boys are working late to complete it by morning,” Harry says, proudly. 

“Why didn't you go home?” Arthur asks with a grin. 

“This is more my home – no offense, Fleur – than mine,” Harry smiles. 

“None taken, Harry,” she waves off and pours a bit of champagne in her glass, missing everyone's coos which she chimed in late for. 

“We're so excited, Harry!” Molly cries, racing over to plant a kiss on his head and then go into the kitchen. “Everyone but Harry and the ladies come and help your poor Mother with this celebratory dinner!”

“Why just Harry?” Ron groans but complies anyways. 

“He's the Hero today!” She says. 

“When are you not?” George snickers and went dutifully to help his mother but first he hits Percy up side the head, whom was sitting with Hermione – both invested in muggle literature. 

“You're not a lady, get up and help your mother,” George laughs as Percy tore himself away. 

The rest of the night they spent cooking together, feasting and up late talking about stories from Hogwarts when things were happy and how they would remain happy. It felt liberating as the boys got drunk and the girls gossiped and the parents went to bed and they just spoke without guard, let go of tension and it was nearly the start of a new year; a year which Voldemort had not stepped in, a year where they could be new and light could lead. 

“Our new year shall be celebrated in the Great Hall,” Ron suddenly decides, drunk off Firewhiskey. 

“Yesyesyesyesyes!” George hisses, draping himself around Harry who lays on the main sofa. 

“Shush! Ah!” Harry orderes. “You're going all crazy, maate! Craz—Oh my Merlin, Ron. Yes. That's-- you're my best friend, bloody hell!” He imitates Ron in a high pitched voice and giggled loudly into George's chest who was squeaking. 

Bill falls into Ron and smiles. “Ron. You're – you're my brother! And you're not the smartest quill in the –“ he burps. “um, barrel or whatever the hell the saying is but that's so beautiful!”

“The day before we open, December 31st we celebrate,” Harry says. 

All the men cheer, laugh, and drink gayly as the girls giggle upstairs with wine and they fall asleep sprawled out atop each other finally feeling at home for the first time in 11 months – since the victorious death of Voldemort.


	2. Part 3 & 4 of Prologue

The Potter House 

Part Three 

1 Year After the War 

3 weeks and 6 days later, the day before Hogwarts opened the boys kept their promise to celebrate the re-opening on December 31th which everyone gathered; The Weasley's, The Trio, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, even the Slytherins and a few Professors. Hermione insisted they all have a feast for anyone to attend, before the boys get sloshed at the Three Broomsticks which she said didn't count as correct celebration if he couldn't remember the next morning. Ron had sent out invitations for the Hogwarts Dinner as per her request. Molly had plotted out the feast, incorporating all House traditional foods. Hermione had decorated with Fleur, George and Bill. Harry suspected had (in loving memory of Fred) set up pranks, traps and tricks as well. It was bloody good to be home. 

Guests began to filter in through the Great Hall. Tonight the four House tables had been replaced with two large moon crescents that held levitated food in between them that could be Accio'd easily to all the guests from where they sat. House colors were displayed proudly with red chairs, emerald windows, pastel yellow walls, and blue tiles; the moon table reflected its opposite – the sun which painted the ceiling, bright orange, pale butter yellow with a pink horizon that showed the rise of a morning sunshine that replayed. In spirit of those who passed in the war, their lit wands were taking the place of candles. It was breathtaking display of the Light side which had won. 

Ron Weasley runs over to Harry Potter and slaps his back.“I cannot believe you did it!”

Harry jumps slightly and laughs, as he watches his old classmates walk through the doors he leans against. “I cannot believe it either. Although it was more Chareth's team and that Theodore Nott.” 

Cho Chang just then walks in with the same Theodore Nott who overhears this. “What are you, in love with me?” he jokes. 

“Hi, Harry,” Cho says, rolling her eyes at her boyfriends remark. 

“Hello, guys. I am so happy you two could make it,” Harry says, pointedly ignoring Theo along with Cho and simply punching him on the arm. 

“I take your silence as you are in love with me but seriously, mate I wouldn't miss this for the world! This place looks great by the way,” Theodore winks. 

“You did most of it, so you would think it looks great,” Harry replies, hugging Theodore and then Cho. 

“Any other snakes coming?” Ron suddenly asks bluntly. 

“Ron!” Harry whispers heatedly. 

Theo just laughs. “Yes, Harry had the grace to invite nearly all of us.”

“I think this was a wonderful idea,” Cho says quietly. “The start of Hogwarts with no bad blood.” 

“It was Ron's idea to celebrate the New Year in Hogwarts –“ 

“Grand idea,” Pansy Parkinson agrees, appearing by her old classmates side. “Chang and Nott. . . I hadn't a clue you two were together,” she makes a noise of distaste. 

Theodore shrugged. “I hadn't a clue you weren't with anyone at all.”

“If I were with someone, Nott he wouldn't have the time to come to such an event. I date very important people, you see that just don't have such frivolous hours to spare,” Pansy says with a smug grin. 

“I am not great with the words and Hermione would have to be here to correct me; but that word makes no sense that sentence,” Ron mutters to Harry, “right?” 

“Oh, but you have such frivolous hours to spend, Pansy?” Cho asks, feigning concern. 

“I never miss a moment to make a entrance,” she explains obviously, “either way, I suppose at the very least you two look interesting looking together. As in, if I saw you in the street I'd just have to shout: HOW,” Pansy's voice drawls. “I wasn't going to say it, in fear you'd take the wrong way, but what are friends for?” 

“Well, Pansy I was going to say you look rather lonely, but in fear you'd take it the wrong way I kept my mouth shut but since you find it fit to give me friendly advice I might as well give my two cents. As in, if I saw you at an event without a date I'd think: LONER, ” Cho replies coolly, adding. “What are friends for, right?” 

Pansy glares and moves towards Harry to shake his hand. “It was lovely of you to invite me, Potter. Thank you. I admire your strength in inviting some rather dubious others.”

“Of course, Pansy. Maybe you could show your gratitude by not getting into a duel, alright?” Harry says. 

“Yes,” she agrees. 

“You know, Parkinson – I have many brothers I could set you up with,” Ron winks. “Pansy Weasley. Has a nice ring to it.” 

“I am sitting down now before I faint from even the thought of being with a Weasley,” Pansy scoffs, and walks into the Great Hall with a sashay of her fur robes. 

“How to get rid of a bitch in under 10 seconds,” Ron cheers, “a book by me.”

Theodore bursts into laughter.“I cannot fathom why you invited her, Harry but I am glad you did. She's most amusing to me still.”

“Yes, amusing,” Cho says unconvinced. “Let's not sit next to her okay?” Cho asks her boyfriend. 

“Sure, dear. I see Zacharias Smith, let's go say hello,” Theo decides. 

“Alright. See you later Harry,” Cho says and walks off with Theodore to the crowd forming towards the Great Hall. 

“This is strange,” Ron says. “Seeing everyone again, so different.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I am going to go greet more people, this may even be interesting,” Harry walks over to the crowd, leaving Ron to himself. 

“Hello, love,” Hermione says as she grasps her boyfriends arm and smiles at him. 

“Did you see Pansy Parkinson yet?” Ron laughs. 

“I wish I didn't,” she says. “She somehow secretly insulted me without really insulting me! I guess she got more clever.”

“Clever? Pansy? What did she say?” he asks with interest. 

“Something about how she hopes when we have mixed blood babies they come out with my hair color, mud like it is, so they wouldn't suffer such a ginger color cause it would wash them out,” Hermione informs him with a smirk. “Except she said it really fast and somehow slipped away before I could reply. ”

“Let's hope our 'mixed blood babies' inherit my traits and not yours, because if you think that was clever – you're losing it.” 

Hermione hits him slightly. “She was much more blunt a year ago, so yes I do credit her for not calling me a Mud – “

“Hey, no,” Ron says in a hushed whisper, rubbing her clothed arm. Hermione still had a faded scar of the words: Mudblood on her arm. “Don't – don't say that, okay?” He discreetly kisses where the scar ends, just under her wrist. 

“I can say it without getting flashes of blood behind my lids, you know,” she says, anger behind her words as she yanks her arm away. 

“There's nothing wrong with me not wanting you to say that,” Ron says, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a step away from her. 

The War was over but the fights roared on. Hermione seemed determined to act as if nothing happened to her there, that she was concrete and unhindered from the events a year ago. But, she still covered her arm with sleeves, scar creams and spells. She still got glassy eyed during the Sunday dinners with his family and sneaked to the bathroom to quickly cry. He still finds her with Harry, huddled in a corner when they think he's not looking – looking haunted together. She still refuses to speak of her parents. She still flinches when she's wearing nothing in bed but Ron's lips asking him to please stopstopstopstop kissing her scar. 

Ron still finds her broken and unwilling to be put back together by anyone but herself. 

“I won't fall apart by the word!” she hisses. 

“I will,” he admits. 

Hermione is breathing heavy and making eye contact with him seriously before jerking herself away. “Oh, look Neville's here.”

“'Mione, stop it – “

“Stop what, love? I am fine because you're fine because I won't say the word that makes you – a Pureblood – fall apart,” it was scathing and said slow and painfully. She instantly regrets it, Ron knows that he does but he still finds himself pissed off beyond belief that his girlfriend could cut him that deep. Maybe his old friend Hermione wouldn't mind saying that and he could brush it off a year ago but this was girlfriend Hermione and why the bloody hell would she find that okay to say to him? 

She's loses herself in the throngs of people before he could even splutter a reply and she's with Neville. 

“Whatever,” he mutters and walks inside the Great Hall. When he saw Hermione he'd feel the anger welling up again in his chest but right now. . . He felt lucky. 

Fred's wand seemed to have a life of its own, gingerly colliding with other lit wands, forever lit by Lumos. Ron was so lucky to not be up there with is brother. That is how he sees it now; a year later, instead of feeling guilty like he used too – he now realizes he should feel lucky to be alive and not take this life for granted by filling it with already over used emotions. Guilt and regret. . . He then sees is anger is misplaced. 

He's getting out of The Great Hall as fast he can, he's looking for his girlfriend and he's lucky he can still have time between stupid bouts of anger to make up for it. Ron is looking right past Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas to Hermione whose still talking to Neville and he's reminded of 7th year. He's reminded of when knew less of the world and less of himself and when he was only half as happy. He's reminded of a thousand moments of Voldemort's shadow looming into a thousand battles that nearly tore their lives down. Dead was not just his brother, but a whole lot of folks he never even knew the name of that he grieved daily and that he allowed himself to forget how lucky he was made him crazy. 

Ron smiles at his old Professors who are pressed together with wistful grins and mugs of tea he doubted weren't spiked. He'd talk to them soon enough but for now, he needed to apologize to his girlfriend. 

“Harry,” Ron calls to his best friend who is in mist of conversation with McGonagall. 

Harry turns just slightly and he see's how Minerva beams with pride at him so he smiles and takes her hand. “Hello, Professor.”

“Ms. Granger has managed you into a gentlemen, I see,” she says with care, patting his hand before it disappears under her robes. 

“Right. . . About that. Where is she?” Ron asks. 

“She went to check out the classroom's with Neville,” Harry says, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice. 

“Alright, see you Professor. I'm going to see Hermione,” he nudges Harry with wide eyes. “Business to take care of.”

“It's as if you think I'm not here, Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall laughs. “Obviously you two are in a fight.”

“Rather not discuss that with you,” Ron says, blush forming on his cheeks to his ears. 

“Right, I will be off then. Mr. Filch seems to be getting more and more irritated without someone to filter him,” she says. 

“Does he have an issue with the new castle?” Harry asks. 

“He keeps saying it's not the same and there's so many things out of place,” her lips form a thin line and she rolls her eyes. “It's the exact same model I knew of, so I haven't the foggiest what he is on about. See you boys later,” with that she walks over to Mr. Filch, properly chastising him for moaning on. 

“I'm going to go and talk to Hermione,” Ron says, patting Harry on his back as makes his way to the staircases. He smiles at the portraits he passes, of those who passed. This entire castle was a memorial and Ron cherished it. 

He gets to the 7th floor, entering the east wing to the new portrait guarding the Gryffindor Tower. It was a large self-indulgent Lioness, always grooming herself and sleeping. Theodore warned them they would sometimes have to scream to wake her up but luckily the Lioness was awake and playing with her own tail. 

She growls and Ron replies. “S'okay, girl. I know the password: Bravery.”

The Lioness roars back at him and the portrait swings open. He steps through it and sees: Luna, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Hermione all together. They were looking up at a portrait of his brother, Fred. Hermione turns around with glassy eyes, clutching her jumper. She mouths I'm sorry. 

“Got away from me for a minute there, huh?” Ron says with a smile as they all turn to look at him with eyes cast down and cheeks being bitten to keep from saying what Hermione mouthed but aloud. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was checking out to see if everything was how it was,” Hermione replies, walking towards him. 

“You helped those builders enough with the designs, you know. You pretty much mapped out this place to the tip of a quill,” Ron praises her, grasping her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. 

“That Nott did an alright job with his team,” Seamus says, nudging Dean who laughs. 

“Who knew we'd all be grateful to a Slytherin,” he replies wistfully. 

“Dumbledore would be proud to see the unity afoot,” Neville says. 

“Yes, the stars shine for the newly and the grave. I can see them,” Luna promises, placing her palm on her boyfriend's shoulder. 

“Me too, darling,” Neville replies. “Where's Harry?” 

“Man of the hour,” Seamus says. 

“Ain't he always?” Ron replies, “in the Great Hall I bet, chatting with the Professors.”

“We should go down and see him, love,” Hermione says. 

“Sure, I think dinner is soon!” Ron replies happily. 

“George here?” Dean asks, walking towards the portrait with the rest. 

“The whole Weasley clan,” Ron laughs. 

“Clans are a type of sea creature,” Luna informs. “I do reckon they are known by muggles, right Hermione?”

“Clams, Luna. Clams are what you are referring to,” she says slowly. 

“Oh? Clams, you made them for me once,” Ron tells his girlfriend, helping her out of the portrait as it closes. “They were delicious. Merlin, I am hungry.”

“I don't know, I think clans sound better,” Luna says firmly, grabbing Neville's. hand in her own. “In fact, darling – I am hungry too. I hope Harry made clans.”

“Let's hope he made up a made up clan,” Neville replies, smirking a bit. 

Luna hits him slightly after a second, seeming to get he's making fun of her. 

“I never thought we'd be having a dinner here again,” Ron says, “clan or clams. I really didn't see this becoming real.”

“Harry really pushed it,” Hermione says lowly. Ron rubs her shoulders slightly with a confused glance as they walk down the staircase. She shrugs and mouths later.

“Pushed what?” Harry says, appearing at the end of the first staircase out of breath. “Pushed through this hell? I forgot how hard it was to walk everywhere! I have no idea how we weren't all late for class everyday.”

Luna scoffs.“At least you didn't have to answer a riddle to open to up your commons. Once I forgot a book for class and I ran back real fast only to be faced with a riddle to get back in. I was so flustered I just fell asleep by the door!”

“Oh, Merlin. That's crazy,” Neville tells his girlfriend. “Were you tired or something?”

“No, not at all. I just didn't wanna keep thinking about 'a large, large gray who haunts the clowns all day, who is he that walks in front of trains and a turns day bloody and decayed'.”

“Elephant,” Harry says tonelessly over his shoulder. 

“You're taller than me,” Luna points out. “If anything you're the elephant.”

“No, Luna,” Seamus says over Dean's laughter, “he's answering your riddle. Jumbo the Elephant. Muggle reference of an animal in the circus who got hit by a train and was one of the biggest recorded elephants like ever.”

“I've never felt so silly in my life,” Luna says sadly. 

“In your whole life?” Hermione laughs but her laughter dies as Luna just looks at her sad and curious. 

“Oh, you're serious,” she yields before picking up her pace again, raising her brows. 

“As a Whomping Willow.”

“Time for dinner,” Ron replies, chuckling. “Missed you guys, though.”

Part Four 

Everyone invited for the Hogwarts Celebratory Dinner was sat round the crescent table. The Professors sat together with thoughtful expressions and fond smiles. Those invited of the four houses had mixed reactions to being together once more; some were grinning straight at Harry, making sure they got one on one time with him, some would avoid his glance and shuffle in their seats uncomfortably, some would only converse with each other, but Harry was glad for all of it. 

He grabs his flute of wine and raises it silently as everyone begins to raise their own. He looks to his best friends and nods to them. “I'd like salute and praise those at this table.”

Minerva's eyes slowly meet his with a smile but he keeps his expression solemn. “I'd also like to salute and praise those who didn't have the chance to sit with us at this table. For those who didn't make it out the War unscathed or even alive deserve to be thought of every day and I think everyone here are fit hosts who can carry and live on the memory of our losses. Let us not celebrate their death, but their life in order to live our own – the way they couldn't,” Harry's speech ends with, “they were and will forever live on as our Warriors, our family, and our Saviors,” and he clinks his glass with those closest to him. 

“Here, here,” everyone cheers and begins enjoying the feast. The Hall is bursting with conversation after a long beat and Harry finds himself forgetting his own food and watching everyone else. Pansy distastefully sniffing her food, muttering about calories. Zabini, ever the show off, using his wand to feed himself. Theodore and Cho are sharing their wines, white and red and comparing. Hermione and Ron are kissing each others knuckles in between Rons large bites of foods. The other Weasley brothers are making fun of everyone quietly and laughing uproariously. Fleur is mumbling the English words she hears and trying to commit them to memory by softly repeating them. Percy is chastising George's jokes. Molly is inquiring harshly about the food to the Professors, 'is it good? You like it? I have the recipe in my satchel, you know'. The Greengrass sisters are checking out each male they obviously view as a suitor, playing with the hair and taking bird bites as to avoid smudging their matching purple lipsticks. Minerva is speaking with Mr. Filch and Professor Sprout about her mediwitch job and the Ambrose houses. 

The atmosphere was perfectly calm, save for the hectic group of friends who gathered. Ginny, who sat two seats down, smiles at him and winks. George who is by his left squeezes his knee and laughs at something Charlie says. Hermione and Ron are giving him a sharing gaze of pride, and he's laughing. 

“What's so funny, mate?” Ron asks. 

“Nothing,” Harry replies. “I'm just – I'm so happy, Ron.”

Luna, who sits next to Ron on his right, coo's and grabs her boyfriend's cheek. “We're all so happy, Harry.” 

Hermione begins to speak but an electric shock shakes the ground and everyone feels their chairs begin to tilt back and forth, the sparks of power rumbling so deep Harry could feel a vibration in his core. “Oh, God,” she spits out instead, grasping Ron's arm and shooting Harry a fearful glare.

“What hell is that?” Theodore calls out, the vibration growing and seeping into the walls emitting a snake like sound of cracks. He grabs his girlfriend protectively. 

“I – I don't know! Is something trying to get through the wards?” Harry asks, getting out of his chair and falling right back into his guard mode. Fuck, any moment he gets the slightest remembrance of bliss, it's taken away. Everyone begins to move, as the middle of the crescent table begins shaking so violently the foods falls off into the middle of the invisible protection net, simply levitating over the floor which starts to slowly separate in slits, inch by inch. 

Molly and Arthur are grabbing their children and Pansy is shrieking, holding onto Blaise who is clutching his wand. Ron yells at Hermione to move as far away from the con-caving floor and tells everyone to exit Hogwarts.

“We need to slow this down,” Harry tells them and pulls out his wand from his holster and casts Aresto Momentum to lag the process of the electric snake shocks that continue to sound. He sees no magic, but a continuing destruction to the walls and floors. 

Ron is casting the same spell on the walls and attempting to disenchant any working spells, anything that may have slipped through the wards, anyone who did slip through the wards with Finite Incantatum. 

Charlie, George, Percy, and Ginny are ushering people out of the Hall and to the front doors but as Harry turns to asses the damage of the farthest wall to see four large portraits of the Hogwarts founders begins to crash in the foyer and Harry screams, “Impedimenta!” 

Successfully, he slows down the portraits and they crowd quickly scatters away.

“I did the Finite, mate. I don't think it's spell,” Ron tells Harry as he tries to hold onto the House tables in the front of the Hall for balance. 

“It might be an Earth Quake!” Hermione supplies, from where she stands with Astoria Greengrass who is clutching onto the doors with Granger. 

“Or we are under attack, because guess what? We had a War on these grounds! How could you possibly find it safe to throw tea party here,” Greengrass growls and Hermione glares at her. 

“Harry knows what he's doing!” She yells and the air suddenly becomes more tangible, as if a storm was being brewed just through the energy in the air. He couldn't see it, but he felt it. Harry attempts to move through the thick air to get to the guests but just swung back into Ron who grabs hold of his chest from behind. 

“Harry, mate. We need to get out of here!” 

“I don't think whatever is making this happen wants us to leave, Ron. It wants us to die,” Harry screams. 

The Professors are casting protective charms, repelling spells, and begin magically nailing down the chairs and tables for people to hold onto. 

It was a like snow storm, small flakes of energy would fall down on Harry's nearly deconstructing his own magic. Like weight was gathering on his skin and a storm was clouding his vision and hindering his thought and power. Harry felt like he could fall down and just roll down the hills of this storm, allowing it to swallow him and become sunken into the spiral leisurely opening in the middle of the Great Hall. It was Potter's weakness and he knew it, the closing in feeling; just as he felt, a child in a cupboard, a prisoner in his own home where he didn't belong. The feeling of not belonging weighed heavy like the air, in his heart and Ron was shrieking in his ear but he sounded so far away right now. He was unwanted in Hogwarts. Give up, just give up. Don't fight, stop it, fall, fall, you're defeated. Give up. 

Cracks of a snake broke into his pores and was seething as it spoke to him. Harry didn't know if it was him or something intrusive in his head, but he believed them and now the storm was gathering on his eyelids and he couldn't see and he only felt the snow, the cold, the heavy thickness of the air becoming his brain. Like, he was the storm and he was fading. The last thing he saw were the lit wands seeming to fall on him like snow flakes but without the crash and it was on repeat. The last bit of warmth and light fades and now he sees nothing. . . 

“HARRY, HARRY, Harry, H. . .” 

Faded. 

The storm was lifted, cleared and the hotness of skin was returned. His eyelids felt overactive, even though the blackness still clogged his sight. His legs were filled with energy and his entire upper half felt on fire. Harry's heart was beating uncontrollably and his magic felt so free and new. He felt born again, in a sense of feeling conscious again. 

“His hands are moving, 'Mione!” Oh Merlin, that was so loud! His hearing felt fucking new too.

“Ah!” He breaks his own silence and his mouth feels foreign to use. 

“Harry, Harry. You're okay, it's okay. I need you to open your eyes, Harry, please?” Ginny. Ginny was talking to him reaching to him and he had to. . . Reach back. Harry, reach her. She needs you, Harry. 

“Gin. . .” He says slowly. 

“Yes, yes. Okay, open your eyes, Harry,” Ron commands.

“If he isn't in charge of his motor skills, he may not be able to do that, guys,” Hermione chides. “Let him come up at his own pace.”

He feels so left out that he forces his eyes open, angered he can hear but not see and his hit with a bout of shining white light. Letting out a small squeak he feels two excited hands come to his shoulders, and yank him back down on the bed once his back began to lift, it goes right back down. He closes his eyes once more and indulges in the blackness of it. 

“I can't see very well,” he mutters. 

“It's okay, Harry,” he hears Hermione soothe him. 

“What's happened?” Harry asks, thankful to have his closet friend here. If his sight is impaired, he wouldn't feel as safe with anyone else. 

“The Hogwarts Celebratory Dinner went haywire,” Ron says, obvious embarrassment in his voice. “Theodore is checking out the site now, I guess some type of. . . “

Ron falls silent. 

“Alright, could you not randomly stop talking like that? Makes me think you've all fled the room,” Harry jokes weakly. 

“Harry, you won't like this,” Ginny says knowingly. 

“What the hell is it?” 

“Voldemort's magic is haunting Hogwarts,” they all say at once and Harry forces his eyes open. 

“Impossible,” he croaks, fighting the urge to close his eyes as a blurry image of his friends all towering his hospital bed comes to his visage. 

“We knew this coming in, mate,” Ron says. 

“We knew that Chareth said it was fine to rebuild!” Harry argues. 

“With a proper Magical Construction worker,” Hermione interjects with suspicion. 

“Why has this happened, Hermione?” Ginny asks, begging for all the facts. “I want to know why in the world this man suggested such a hopeful idea, only to have to backfire in Harry's face.”

Hermione opens her mouth but closes it once her boyfriend speaks. 

“More like, why did we all think it would work?” Ron huffs. “I'm more pissed at us.”

“Someone tell me what went down at Hogwarts right now, so help me I will go down there myself and kill Voldemort a second fucking time,” Harry demands. 

“Merlin, Harry. Calm down,” Ginny scoffs. “He is stuck in bloody Hogwarts, you know. The entity of the grounds contains him, Hogwarts contains him. Our school is a basic memorial site of him, and if you cross his burial site – you get burned. It's his territory, now,” she says, matter-of-fact but Harry won't accept as such but he refused to argue with Ginny of all people. He knew, from his previous relationship with her, if he wanted to fight he better be sneaky about it because her knowing someone countered her opinion was a death wish on them. 

“What did he do to me? Voldemort's. . .”

“Magic, you can call it. His dark magic stained the remains of Hogwarts grounds and its metaphysical grounds,” she informs him. 

“Yeah, alright. Voldemort's Magic, what did it do to me?” Harry asks, once more. Not giving a damn about the schematics, just how the hell he was knocked out and now has woken feeling so energized. 

“Harry, he shut off your magic for a moment there,” Ron says slowly. 

Maybe his world should have broken in that moment, maybe he should have been devastated at the fact that Voldemort (dead) could still affect him in this new traumatic manner. But, he was shocked that this hell hadn't yielded in his life. He expected to die in the Battle of Hogwarts and he was still here, breathing. He was lucky to be here, yes but life used to be ten times harder and the aftermath of his life was still going to be hard. He shouldn't have expected anything to be good just because Voldemort was defeated, Merlin – did nothing change? 

“How could he have done that? Ron, he isn't even alive,” Harry grinds his teeth, clutching the thin blankets over his torso with vigor. 

“I don't know, Harry. I am so sorry, but it was like he drained you when we were there,” Hermione confirmed. 

“Wait, where is everyone else? Is everyone okay? Luna, George, Molly, fuck. Minerva, is Professor M –“ Harry blurts out, his body snapping upwards. 

“Yes, yes, Harry. Everyone is okay, we promise,” Ginny says, making him unclench his balled fist and holds it. “They went to the Ambrose House, to write down what they felt there to report it to Chareth.” 

“Thank Merlin,” Harry breaths and sets himself back down on the pillows.

“Harry, I don't think we should ever go to Hogwarts again. It was amazing how much effort you put into making this happen, with Chareth and Theodore Nott but right now I think it is more trouble than it is worth. Voldemort's magic can seduce yours, it breaks you down and forces you to become something of a muggle. Your body without magic cannot endure the physical toll your body has taken, like Hogwarts your body survives off magic. If we go in there once more, you could die,” Hermione says sharply. 

Harry's jaw slacks and he replies, “I am nothing without my magic?” 

“I doubt any of us are,” Ginny says with a shrug. “Not such a bad thing, being a magical being, Harry. We aren't suppose to live without it, anyway. Why try?” 

“Because, I grew up muggle, Ginny,” Harry snaps. “If all I am is magic and it could be taken away, what does that make me?” 

“Not weak, so don't go there,” Ron shakes his head. “You need to calm down, Harry. Your magic was taken but it was returned once we left Hogwarts, okay? But it knocked you out, the sheer pain. It was like, it was momentarily detained, your magic, okay? But, you're fine now and just a little worked up because it came back like. . . Air would, after being held under water,” Ron supplies after a moment of thought, like he was still trying to understand it. “You just need to take a breath 'cause you're not under water now.”

Harry did but it didn't help, every time he breathed in he was so aware of his magic it brought back the memories of the snake like vibration that went through Hogwarts. 

“Knock knock,” Bernard Chareth whispers, knocking on his hospital door with a kind smile. “Hello, Harry.” 

Ron's eyes are wide and he's lightly shaking his head at Harry's balled fist and tapping it. He doesn't want Harry to be pissed at Chareth, but he can't help it. It was like his hope rose for the first time in a year and now it was back at the bottom. But, he couldn't not put on the face of the hero whom he played. 

“Hello, Bernard.”

It was like his friend's voices were unlocked by his own as they began to mutter their greetings. Hermione decides to sit at the end of his bed, setting her medical chart on her lap with her lips pursed and eyes calculated. Ron is grasping his knee hard. Ginny is also holding his hand tightly, and he feels like protected somehow. He finally takes that breath and feels it working. He's not under water right now. 

Harry didn't know that the conversation he was about to have with Chareth was one of the most important of his life. If he had to look back, he wondered how he didn't screw up the fate that was on track because it was so meticulously plotted it nearly didn't happen. Harry likes to think his life has changed several different times. From the moment his parents died, from the second got to and left the Dursley's, the words that left Hagrid's lips about him being a Wizard, meeting Ron and Hermione, dating and ending things with Ginny, defeating Voldemort, and now this. This wasn't a change, this was the path to the end of his life and the end of his long-lasting battle. 

It roars on the outside, always but this conversation slowed the battle in Harry Potter's mind. Or at least, it was the start of his own reconstruction. 

End of Prologue Parts


	3. End Of The World

The Potter House   
Chapter One 

“You look quite blue,” Bernard remarks. 

“You would too, have you had your magic stolen,” he drawls. 

“Harry,” he says softly. “I’m truly sorry for how things ended at Hogwarts.”

“Ended, you’re saying Hogwarts has ended?” Harry asks outraged. 

Hermione, Ginny and Ron sigh loudly from his bed. 

“Should we give you two a moment?” Ginny asks. 

“That would be lovely, thank you, Ms. Weasley,” Bernard says politely as they exit the room. 

“I’ll be right outside,” Ron tells him, closing the door. 

“Mr. Potter, if you’d like to take out your anger on me, now would be acceptable,” Bernard permits, sitting down on the chair by the bed Harry lay in. 

He feels childish, like Madam Pomfrey should’ve been tending to his side and he should have been dutifully listening to his elders. How easy that would be, to allow someone to lead -- but once you’ve been a War hero, you’re bound to get a complex or maybe he was just bound to be at war period. Harry was not a child anymore and he felt too old to be intimidated. Merlin, he was sick of feeling but sicker of thinking about his feelings. 

“You owe me nothing,” Harry states, surprised at the truth behind it. “I owe you nothing. We do not know each other, Bernard. I’ve seen hope before and it always takes a different shape to lure you in. I know you tried and I commend you for that, but after the Weasley’s reported the incident, you cannot ignore this. In fact, I’m sure the rest of the guests did too. I expect you to deal with this, maybe Hogwarts can never be safe, but I sure as hell won’t stand for Voldemort’s magic still looming as if he’s won some part of our world. He shouldn’t be allowed any of it.”

Chareth nods slowly, “That’s charitable of you, Harry. Frankly, I’m angry with myself but no else seem to be. They are all hoping all be some great Head Auror that they are willing to overlook anything. . . I think I’m just a face for them. I think that is why I was so invested in this project, because I wanted to prove I cared. I attended Hogwarts, you know. I was a Hufflepuff and I can honestly feel that longing you have towards preserving it. I wish we lived in a different world, Harry but just because we don’t doesn’t mean it’s the end of this one.”

“That sounds like a promise,” Potter says. 

“It is. Harry, as long as we carry on the great name of our school anything is possible. I know this will be hard and grueling, but we will fight to figure something out. Just not your kind of fighting,” Bernard says with determination. “Do not return to Hogwarts. It will be strictly under surveillance, no one but me and my team will be able to get in there. It’s too dangerous and if I know you and your reputation. . . You’ll try something, so I’ll just say right now. Don’t,” Bernard says seriously. 

“Understood,” Harry says. Whatever made him feel more secure, but to be honest if Potter wanted in there, he’d get in there. 

“Theodore is working hard to find the source of the magic, but it will take a few trial and errors before we find it and learn how to exterminate it properly,” he tells him. 

“When we do, I want to do it,” Harry decides. 

Bernard winces, “Listen, Mr. Potter. The Wizarding World and I are very grateful you defeated the Dark Lord, but when an issue arises you will not be the first to be told. I will have no rouge fighters on my side, you either become an Auror or you stay out of it.”

Harry felt his legs twitch and heart begin to beat faster, magic growing thicker around him. It was hard to contain now that it had just resurfaced. 

“I know you do not like how that sounds, but it’s the rules. I shouldn’t even be telling you this,” he chides himself. “But, the part you played in everything earns you the right. I will keep you updated, Mr. Potter, but I will have no one interrupting my case.”

“Understood,” Harry repeats. 

“Also,” he continues, standing up. “If you attempt to get Theodore Nott to do your bidding, I will know.”

“I do not use people as puppets, Bernard. If I want something done, I do it myself,” Harry says delicately. He wanted to threaten him, tell him that it was obvious he was not confident in his skills and it showed. Tell him that his stake in Voldemort’s death was stronger than the Head’s and if he wanted an enemy, he didn’t want Potter as one but his voice of reason kicks in. 

Or maybe it was that Hermione Granger walked through the door and he forced himself to calm down. “Hello,” she says quietly. “I forgot my purse.”

Bernard grins, “I was just on my way out. Ms. Granger, we’ll talk later.” 

“Of course,” Hermione replies as he turns out the door and shuts it. 

“You don’t wear purses.”

“I would’ve feigned being on fire if it meant he’d leave the room, before you took your wand out on him,” Hermione disapprovingly. 

“I was perfectly under control, ‘Mione,” he tells her. 

“I’ve known you for so long, Harry. I know your magic, I can feel it,” she scoffs. “When you’re slipping, it’s easy to tell. So, what did he say?”

“Where is Ginny and Ron?” He asks, avoiding the question. 

“Hungry,” Hermione says sharply. “I said you’d be in for a while so they went out for food.”

“You lied.”

“I did. There is something we have to discuss,” she says carelessly. 

“Hermione, what are talking about?” Harry asks, standing up and going behind the dressing room curtain. “I’ve got to get out of here, just keep talking. Uh, where are my trousers?”

He strips once he’s shielded and waits for Hermione to hand him his clothes, his wand in the pocket. “Thanks,” he says and she begins talking. 

“You know that I was trepidations when we first met Bernard.”

“We all were,” Harry says, shrugging on his undershirt. 

“Yes, well. I worry far more than you ever could, so it was hell the first few weeks. He was so chatty, happy and generous – seemed off to me. Then, we began meeting up to research and going to archives or just being in the Ministry’s library, he talked to me. He really is more than meets the eye,” Hermione says and he can hear how nervous she is. 

“Be kind of awkward if he ignored you, huh,” he jokes as he zips up his trousers and opens the curtain. He has time to look over Hermione, she was never one to hide her emotions anyway but in case she was putting on a brave face, he wanted to catch her off guard. She was biting her cheek, tapping her hands against her thigh and distractedly looking at his bed. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answers quickly. “But, I don’t know how fine you will be once you learn Bernard’s true intention.”

“I knew we couldn’t trust him,” Harry snarls. 

“No, no. Harry he’s no traitor, liar, or anything. He’s a Light wizard and went to Hogwarts, never married, no children, lives off his family money as he is the heir of the Chareths. Also, Head Auror title given to him on his own merit,” she says, as if she were reciting something. He wondered if she practiced this in her head. 

“Okay,” he says. “Then why do you sound anxious, if you trust him?”

“Oh, I do not trust him. Merlin knows I’ll ever be able to trust anyone again, ‘sides from you and the Weasley’s,” she says and finally looks him in the eye. “But, I know he won’t leave you alone and the faster we get to trusting him the better.”

“Hermione,” Harry snaps. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine, I began trading letters with Bernard while we were discussing research. I think it’s best you just read our letters,” she says fervently, reaching in her jacket pocket and tapping her wand against a small package of string tied letters. It rumples together till it forms full sized and unties the strings, handing them to Harry. 

“Did you have an affair with him?” he laughs as she flinches, “why are you being so jumpy, ‘Mione?” Harry asks in exasperation. 

“For God’s sake just read them,” she says coldly. 

“Could you blame me? You’re being pretty damn dramatic,” he says flatly, opening up the pieces of parchment and ordering them by date on his bed. Harry starts to read, one by one. 

 

June 12th, 1998 

Dear, Ms. Granger, 

I’ve made contact with The Parisian Hall. Thank you for the tip, your friend was quite helpful. Anyhow, he said that there have been a few cases of Sepulchrum Maledicite, after the first use done by Taront Blanc. Once a male used it on another male he longed for, but he had a wife so his last remaining wish used with the Curse was for the other man to crave him after his death. He was mad with confusion, living his whole life attracted to women, then feeling an intense emptiness without a man who was dead – who he barely knew. He ended up murdering his wife and himself. As you can see, this Curse is only used for revenge. 

There are a few more cases that I attached to this letter; hopefully you will have time to read them. Tell me, what headway has Ron made? I know he was speaking with some men from Germany, where some of these cases have taken place. Please speak to me when you can. 

The Head Auror  
Bernard Ciaran Chareth 

 

June 15th, 1998

Dear, Ms. Granger, 

Thank you for replying so quickly, I’m glad you looked for the letters and I was equally impressed with your responses to them. I am so disappointed to hear that the Germans had nothing, what a lost lead. I spoke with someone in the Ministry, Head of Magical Safety, Mrs. Margret Argot. She said if this was a manifestation of a person, all we had to do was transfigure the attributes as the magic may not hold if it were deformed. I think Harry was correct; rebuilding is the best option here.

I shall go see him soon, all my best. You are still welcome in the library, Ms. Granger, and to do any research you so wish. 

The Head Auror  
Bernard Ciaran Chareth

 

November 2nd, 1998

Hello, Ms. Granger 

I understand your concern; I have many different options if this fails. 

The Head Auror  
Bernard Ciaran Chareth

 

November 3rd, 1998

Good morning, Hermione, 

Harry Potter is one of the greatest wizards of our time. I reckon he could be a fine teacher, don’t you? He hasn’t committed to being Auror, I do not think he will or else he would have asked to train beneath me already but he has not. He could live off his family money, War money, but we both know he won’t. Harry wants to be useful, doesn’t he? I could put him to use, in his own terms of course. We have yet to discuss any further options, but now wouldn’t be the time anyway. There may not be a time, hopefully. 

But, if Hogwarts does end up more harm than good, Harry and I will be having a conversation. 

The Head Auror  
Bernard Ciaran Chareth

 

December 4th, 1998  
Hermione! 

I am delighted you asked me to attend the Hogwarts dinner but unfortunately work prevents me from going, what a friendly gesture though. No, I guess you’re right – you win, Healer Granger. We will not be using any other options, obviously Hogwarts is safe and sound and children can occupy it soon. I will make an appearance at Kings Cross, most certainly. I’ve missed that beautiful sound of joy from first years getting on the train. 

The Head Auror  
Bernard Ciaran Chareth

January 1st, 1999 

I thought you might inquire about my other options. Don’t worry, they will take affect soon. 

The Head Auror  
Bernard Ciaran Chareth  
Harry taps the letters with his wand, successfully making them small again and collects them in his hand. He gives them to Hermione who looks at him with dread in her eyes and ties them back up, putting them in her pocket. 

“Have you inquired?” Harry asks harshly. 

“He didn’t tell me, I didn’t ask. I assumed once he visited you here, he’d give you his news,” she tells him. “He said it would be on your terms though!”

“Bernard is saying what I want to hear,” he shrugs. “I have power, he wants it. It’s the only way the other Aurors will respect him, is if he has me on his side. I wonder if that’s what this has always been about.” He sits down on the bed and she follows. 

“Do we wait or do we bring it up?” Hermione asks, playing with the hem of her jacket. 

“I don’t want to play his game, but I also don’t want to make any sudden movements,” Harry says. 

“Do we tell Ron or Ginny?” Hermione asks, voice dropping lower. 

“Ron will take action and you know Ginny will be right behind him. No, we can’t tell them,” he decides. 

“They think this is all Bernard’s fault, along with Theodore’s,” Hermione informs him. 

“Let them think, just don’t let them do anything,” Harry demands. 

“I won’t,” she sighs and jumps up as the door opens. 

“Why is Harry dressed?” Ginny asks. 

“Would you prefer him naked?” Hermione laughs and Ginny blushes. 

“Been there, done that, no thanks,” she winks and Harry groans. 

“I pity the hearts you will break, Ginny. Those boys will have to get together, have meetings, work through their grief,” he tells her. 

“He’s going home, of course,” Hermione interjects. 

Ron frowns at his girlfriend as Harry stands up. 

“What? You guys, I’m fine,” Harry defends himself, grabbing his glasses from the side table. 

“Check in with your healer, first,” Ron tells him. 

“Alright, alright,” Harry smiles calmly and grabs Ginny’s arm, “c’mon, Gin, show me which one is mine?”

“You’re just taking her so you can talk about me,” Ron shakes his head. 

“Damn right, you’re so over protective sometimes,” Harry says fondly and shuts the door. 

“I have every right,” Ron says lowly. “He has been through a War; in fact every day of his life has been a War. I have every right.”

“I know you do,” Hermione comforts, coming to his side. “You know Harry, the day after he defeated Voldemort he didn’t even think of himself for a second, couldn’t be alone. He was always talking to someone, tending to someone, helping someone. He barely had time to wash the blood off his hands in between rounds at St. Mungo’s. After every big event, big bad event, he just wants to hide away for a bit,” she tells him, stroking his arm. 

“I know we just talked about this but it’s hard to get over,” Ron says, referring to their conversation the night Harry was admitted. Hermione had mouthed to him later when going to dinner at Hogwarts, she was worried that Harry was depressed and was pushing so hard for his old school to re-open because he wanted to go back to normal. “He will never feel normal till he comes to terms with the fact he’s not normal. Merlin, is it so hard to be happy?”

“When you’re living in a constant battle, I assume,” she mutters. 

“We found each other,” Ron says brightly. 

“We’re just lucky. I don’t think Harry is,” Hermione comments. 

“Not in the slightest. I hope he finds someone or something,” Ron nods to himself. “At this point, I don’t even know what would make him feel comfortable again.”


	4. Ardam Forly

The Potter House   
Chapter 2 

 

Hermione smiles at her patient as she thanks her. 

“I’m just doing my job, Mrs. Shivers. How is your husband?” She asks, rubbing her shoulder lightly. 

“Oh, he’s doing lovely. Arden just got a promotion so the baby couldn’t be born in a more stable place, finically,” Ellie says, gently rubbing her pregnant belly. 

“I am glad to hear it,” Hermione says sincerely, looking over her clipboard once more before setting it down on the counter. “I will just go speak with Healer McGonagall about what potions you should take before labor so you and your husband can okay them.” 

“Take your time,” Ellie says cheerfully. 

Hermione steps out of the patient’s room to McGonagall’s office, knocking on the door. 

“Come in!” Minerva calls and she opens the door to the former Headmistress’s quarters decorated in pale reds and harsh gold’s. Hermione grins, warmth blooming in her chest at the sight that very much resembled her time at Hogwarts. 

“Ms. Granger?” She asks, putting down her quill and taking off her glasses. 

“Hello, I just wanted the list of potions Mrs. Shivers should take before her labor,” Hermione requests. 

“Yes, I wrote them down here somewhere,” McGonagall mutters, pushing through piles of parchment before handing Hermione a list. 

“Thank you,” she says, stuck between moving towards the door and standing there. She struggles for several seconds before turning around but Minerva stops her. 

“Ms. Granger,” she calls impatiently. 

Hermione closes her eyes briefly before facing McGonagall, “um, yes?”

“You want to ask something else?” She makes a few random gestures towards Hermione, shrugging. “Get on with it.” 

“Right, well. What do you think of Head Auror Chareth, Ms. McGonagall?” Hermione asks hastily. 

Minerva tilts her head, “I think he’s a fine Auror, Ms. Granger. What do you think of him?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem,” she confesses. 

“Listen, Ms. Granger. People will let others take the form of whatever they fear, when they do not know them. You all do not trust him? I don’t blame you all, but it’s been a year after the War. You have to start making new paths for yourselves, making new allies and goals. If you don’t, I fear you’ll be living in boxes forever,” she shakes her head, “we can’t have that. You’re all a bit too important to let wither.”

“But how do you know who to trust? Who do you know you can trust to not let you wither?” Hermione asks urgently. 

“You don’t.” 

“Oh.”

“Quite.”

“I didn’t expect you to answer with that,” Hermione says sadly. 

“Don’t expect and don’t pretend to know, Ms. Granger. I realize all of that will be hard for you,” she replies pointedly. 

Hermione smiles, eyes slightly watering before she composes herself. “Oh, Mrs. Shivers is waiting for this list. . . Thank you, Ms. McGonagall.”

“Yes, yes, go,” she puts back on her glasses and smiles to herself as she goes back to her work. “Don’t work too late tonight, Ms. Granger the night shift actually does enjoy working here you know. 

Hermione blushes and returns to patient, giving her the list and seeing her out just in time to see an owl perched by one of her colleague’s window, Healer Horvath. It was a beautiful white male owl with highlights of dirty white threading through his feathers and he had pale gold eyes. She knew she’d seen it before and if by the inaccurate destination the owl was sent to, she knew just who it was. 

“Hello, Dionysus. You’ve come to the wrong window, but that’s okay. Maybe he’s too busy to remember my office,” she laughs, “Come here, boy.” 

Dionysus began to follow her throughout the near empty Healer offices; no one but she and McGongall were here and Hermione’s shift was now over.Mrs. Shivers had been a special case, any hour of the night kind of case– she was soon to have her baby, so it was the most Hermione could do to offer her service at all hours. She continued to just think of her latest patient, avoiding what was right behind her. She didn’t know what was in that letter, she and he were not friends who communicated frequently unless it was for work or a mutual favor. Hermione didn’t know why he’d be contacting her; they had not spoken much in the last year, besides about The Parisian Hall’s archives. Hermione had asked he speak with Bernard about the Curse. 

She sighs as Dionysus lands down at her desk and she fed him a treat first before grabbing the letter which was tied on the boy’s talon by a green scaly twine, with a dragon head wax seal closing the lips of the parchment. She scoffs at that, opening it up quickly. 

January 2nd, 1999 

Do you go by Weasley now?

Guess I will have to ask you in person. Portkey included below, your destination is Paris, and the activation is 9:31. Let’s talk. 

Maybe you’ll be adventurous. 

Quivering with suspense,   
Draco Lucius Malfoy 

These words were crafted to suit her and challenge her, she knew and also they were impossible to decline. It was exactly 1 minute and 29 seconds till. There was indeed a Portkey included, a sapphire that was as blue as night, awaiting her travel. Hermione does not read the letter twice, she just sets it down. She takes off her Healer’s coat and slips on her jacket before turning off the lights and puts her wand in her boot. She catches her reflection in the window and looks away, seizing the letter and touching the sapphire and to Paris she went. 

Hermione briefly wondered, in the haze that reminded her much of waking up with a hangover, how any witch or wizard got used to being taken from one spot in the universe to another. From Scotland to France, she was surprised it didn’t feel longer – her transportation but it was over in an instant that was hard to organize in her head. She feels her feet beneath her nearly give out but she rights herself and grabs the closest surface which happens to be a fire place. 

“Gods,” she mutters, adjusting her vision to Draco who sat on a plain couch in the middle of the living room. She knew it was Draco, he still had his eyes (an unattractive storm of gray) but the rest of him was under several glamor charms to look as if he didn’t know the meaning of the word Pureblood. He had brunette shoulder length hair, a round chin, lowered cheekbones, broad chest and much taller than before. 

“I’m not the Gods, but how kind of you to compare me to them,” Malfoy chuckles, setting down the book in his hands and standing up. Gosh, so much taller. It made it even harder to stand up straight. Draco lost his intimidation around third year, but now it was back. He’d gone into hiding after the War, to Pairs with an untarnished name unlike the Malfoy’s. 

“You’re right, sorry Ardam Forly,” she teases, using his false name to her advantage. It was anagram of his, which she found lazy. It didn’t even include all of his name’s letters. “You should only go by your rightful name.”

“Rather that than be a Weasley,” Draco groaned. 

“I don’t go by Weasley, Ron and I are not married,” she says. 

“Maybe she does have a bit of sense in her then,” Draco mutters dramatically, pushing a hand in his darker hair. He was still maddeningly uncomfortable by her presence, which she took solace in. She had the upper hand when they took to meeting, which she liked having. Especially over a male who so loathed her blood, or at least used to. 

Part of their alliance was acting as if they weren’t in one, she knew as she walks into the kitchen. It was a far cry from Malfoy Manor; thank Merlin – that was a place she couldn’t even see the stony man coming back to. Maybe that was why she was so confused at Harry’s actions regarding Hogwarts; it held countless bad memories now. She pushes the issue that only angers her to Draco’s flat. It was deathly impersonal, his flat; not even a Slytherin artifact in sight. Pride out of the question, and she scolds herself for thinking it but the mighty really have fallen. 

The first time she’d been here, she suspected there would be hard green walls, silk silver sofas, pale paintings of old Purebloods, real ivory statues, mink duvets and Malfoy crests within every meter of the home. But, no it was a strict and icy tiny flat that could belong to any man of little wealth and little creativity outside his lineage or House. She couldn’t describe it as anything but dull.

“Have you invited me over for relationship talk, gossip and tea? Should I have brought polish to do our nails, ice cream to indulge in?” She snorts. 

“I want you to return the favor,” Draco insists, setting down the pot on the counter and looking at her intently, giving her a cup of tea. 

“Alright,” Hermione shrugs, taking the cup. She’d rather get the debt over with then keep worrying about what he’d use it on. Besides, he deserves the favor. 

“I need protection, Granger,” Draco says and the room grows loud like she can hear small ticks in her head and the air moving into her lungs. Quiet, everything in her world had been so quiet – expect when it came to Draco Malfoy in the past year. Was she even capable of giving protection? Merlin, but if that is what he wanted. 

“If you are in trouble, then both you and your mother are,” she states. 

“I cannot go farther than Paris without being too far from my mother. I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her, keep her a tiny bit safer,” he says, looking away from Hermione. 

“How are you helping her?” Hermione asks.

“Father had many men, willing to do his bidding be it he got caught. Men that either owed him favors, or he’d forced to follow him. They were passed down to me,” Draco says, sounding uncomfortable with either the prospect or sharing it with Hermione. 

“Oh, so that’s how Dionysus got to St. Mungo’s. She was sent by someone else,” Hermione nods, changing the subject off his father. She thought it’d be insane to send an owl on a 15 hour trip from France to Scotland. 

“I merely had one of the servants write down my message and send it with my owl.”

Hermione pauses before she speaks again, knowing his reaction will be bad but she has to say it. “I want to alert Harry, Draco.”

“You may not do that,” he rebuts instantly, “I am asking for the protection you may lend me, not Potter’s,” Draco says vehemently.

“I am not a protector, he is,” she tells him. 

“Who owes me a favor, Granger? You or Potter?”

“Me but --”

“Exactly, if anything I owe Potter so listen very closely,” he tells her, “I am cashing in my debt. You must repay it yourself, understood? This is between you and me.”

“Could you stop trying to scare me?” Hermione urges him. She sets down her tea on the counter, hard. 

“Will you be able to do it?” Draco asks after a moment and there is a tremor in his voice she is scared by though. When Malfoy shows her an emotion, it usually means he’s serious. Hermione only knew people were after the Malfoy family and that is why he was in Paris and Narcissa was not living in the Manor. 

“I don’t doubt my skill, but you might,” she hums, “how in the world do you know someone is after you anyways? I thought the whole point of Paris was that they’d be thrown off.”

“Granger, you of all people should know if you want something enough – you’d go to great lengths to get it,” she looks down till he continues, even though he’s giving her an important look. She won’t feel ashamed, not in front of him. “I was followed on my way back from the Parisian Hall last week after the last class.”

“Could just be paranoia,” she says. 

“And every night after that,” he deadpans. 

Hermione exhales with force and presses her knees together to feel the rub of her wand in her boot against her ankle. It was comforting knowing she could take it out at any moment. 

“Have you spoken with anyone else whose parents were involved with Voldemort?” Hermione questions.

“The Ministry knows I am here, Granger. They will find out if I am corresponding with say Pansy or Goyle and would do anything to put me under suspicion,” he snaps. 

“Okay,” she says slowly. “I understand. I could deliver Pansy a letter for you?” She was planning on reading the statement of those involved in the Hogwarts dinner and speaking to some of them anyway. Hopefully Pansy wouldn’t be difficult. 

Draco considers this idea, “yes, okay.”

“How do propose I help you, anyways? There are only so many times you can take your life and snap its roots, hoping it blooms in another place,” she mutters. 

“I don’t know,” he says intensely. “I just need to know that if I need you, you will help me.”

Hermione nods, “of course. I will make sure you’re murdered, Draco.” 

“That’s a bleak sentence,” he groans. “I will retrieve some parchment and ink and compose that letter for Pansy,” Draco decides, moving with a slight shake reverberating through his body and disappearing in his bedroom. It was like a shock was being concealed inside of him, she guessed it was his magic. It was must be hard to be himself, she thinks, while living under constant glamor to insure his safety. 

Hermione takes a sip of her tea once he leaves. She found it odd, standing in his kitchen over a pot of tea and helping each other even off debts. More astounding things have happened, she supposed but never had she expected something as simple as courtesy between them. War changes things and it changed Draco even if he didn’t see it. She must’ve thought about Draco once a day, since after the War. This alliance founded on shaky ground was something that saved her and her parents. 

Draco had saved her after the War, in a thousand different ways. Ron didn’t know, Harry didn’t, nor Ginny or the rest. 

“I kept it short,” Draco announces, coming out of his bedroom with the letter. Green scaly twine, dragon head wax seal closing the edges of the parchment. He needed some sense of normalcy, she guessed and that was the point of his formal letters. 

“Why do you sign it with your name and not your alias?” She wonders aloud. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I trust you not to flaunt it around to your Trio, then they’d have to know that we have an understanding” he says. “Plus I don’t even have my name anymore. Any chance to use it, I do.”

She takes it without word, shrinking it down and placing it in her jacket pocket. Debts were something she took comfort in, knowing her part and playing it to its fullest. It usually strengthened an alliance and gained trust on both sides. Hermione may have dirty blood to some, but she damn well had the mind of a pure. Every family, ritual, or customary they had – she’d learned. She enjoyed the routine of it. 

“I will come back here as fast I can but in the mean time?” Hermione asks fretfully.

Draco leans towards her and sighs, “I can stay in different hotels for a few nights, maybe they just want to search my flat and see if I’m still in their game.”

“Game,” Hermione echoes. 

“That’s what they view it as, Granger,” he tells her defensively. 

She bites her lip and says, “How do I get this to you?”

“I will come to you,” Draco promises. “Or Dionysus will.”

“Don’t send any of your father’s men.”

“Don’t tell any of your friends,” he counters. 

“Okay,” she says and they fall silent. She can still hear ringing in her ears, like she has to wake up. It felt like betrayal, her and Draco’s alliance. 

“I thought we wouldn’t talk long,” he casts a quick Tempus, “only 10:13. Your Portkey from here to St. Mungo’s activates in 2 minutes.”

“Very accurate,” she muses. 

“I set multiple, just in case.”

Preparation, she liked that in a person. 

“How is work?” 

“Let’s not make small talk, Granger.”

“Silence for the next minute and thirty seconds it is then.”

 

A/N: I promise you’ll find everything out soon, but for now the reasoning as to how Draco saved Hermione and her parents will remain a mystery. I have lots planned and love to foreshadow so, hope you know what you’re in for haha.


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